Angel of Revenge
by Aozorain
Summary: Bested in battle, she now has to serve a Hume Princess on a desperate quest to restore her country. What is the High Seraph fallen so low to do? Sequel to Rebirth Angel.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story is dedicated to Arsenic Cupcakes, my first reviewer and the person who gave me an idea for this story.**

" _Occuria's Chosen tool, like her ancestor which they were so proud of? I shall have the great pleasure of crushing her soul."_

I charged at the group of mortals who had had the strength and the wit to find my prison in the upmost chamber of the Great Crystal of Giruvegan. I was ablaze with enthusiasm. How long had it been since I had tasted the thrill of battle? Bitter memories of restraint gave my attacks a quality of viciousness that the Occuria would have shunned. How very refreshing!

Mortals though they were, they fought with great power and skill. They had felled many of my former allies who had been locked up within crystals as I was. Their power now matched against mine, I had no inclination to hold back. I gathered my power asleep for too long and cast Holyja over the crew. A pleasant surge of dazzlingly white magick showered down on them and I gloated over their pained cries.

Yet in the next moment, I felt another kind of spell being cast from behind me. I turned around to find a Hume so young she seemed a mere child to me – even in their short-lived ranks – quickly replenishing her allies' strength though she was in no good shape herself. Having been the embodiment of salvation in the life that felt so far away now, I had long ago acknowledged the importance of healing in battle. Even the most valiant of soldiers quickly falls to their knees if they forget to heal themselves from time to time. Thus I decided to strike the youngest Hume down first.

"Penelo!" I heard the cry of another Hume, blond, confident, heedless of the many dangers of the world. However it was another man who made it first to the girl's side, sheltering them both with his magick-imbued shield. He, too, had seen his deal of battles; I knew this from looking at his grave eyes and calloused hands.

On my right, the Viera and the third Hume male had switched to defensive action to recover from the attack. Both reeked of adventure and life without masters to follow. I grudgingly ignored them for my curiosity was taking the best of me. I turned to see the last of my opponents who was already healed, attacking away as if berserked.

A young Hume woman, whose bloodline spoke of great deeds, yet she herself was so laughably small and frail. Tormented by past ghosts, frightened of future threats. Such a feeble individual was the arbiter of the Occuria's new scheme to rule over the world as they used to in the time of their glory?

I watched her in wonder. What was it that made this heart so special?

The battle was being drawn out, neither side making significant progress. I did feel myself becoming increasingly exhausted, though. Had all those centuries spent in idleness made my combat skills so rusted? In the past, I would vanquish battalions with just one sweep of my wings. I had wiped out the very city of Giruvegan! Why could I not beat these simple mortals?

Suddenly I felt the mists in the chamber quicken. Raithwall's descendant had started a chain. The mist was wildly swirling around and I could no more catch it to amplify my spells. The Quickenings followed one another, the mortals taking turns in sending them at me wave after wave. Finally the whirlwind of mist lost its momentum, ceasing the chain. A Black Hole obscured my vision and I felt my heart tremble in humiliation.

The Quickening chain was the turning point of the battle. I could not regain the upper hand and was forced to admit defeat.

Profoundly astonished by the outcome of the clash, I felt my body fall apart as I screamed in angered shock. The crystal in which the Occuria had sealed my soul shattered loudly, leaving behind a glowing glyph in the air. The Princess who had now laid her sword approached the glyph, intending to claim me as her servant. I, however, was not yet ready to give in without resistance.

My physical body was quickly disappearing but with the newfound strength of my soul I attacked the Princess from within her very being. She dropped her sword and bent on her knees, gripping her burning chest tightly.

"Ashe! W-what's happening to her?" The girl who had just been occupied with healing the other members of the group now spun her head in the Princess' direction with frightened eyes.

"It seems that the lady is less than willing to come quietly," the Viera's partner remarked dryly, yet with a hint of surprise in his voice. Had the other Espers accepted the pact with their new master without a fight? Did they really see no contradiction in a god serving a mortal?

"_You bear the mark of the tyrant gods. They think they can use me through you but I will consume you. I will never be part of their plans! I will never serve an Occurian pawn!"_

"_I…am no pa...wn."_ I was bewildered. She could talk back to me through her soul? She should be a useless puppet any moment now.

"_I will…restore my kingdom…my own way. I won't let…anyone...use me. I cannot…stop now."_

I weighed her power against mine. I had a good chance of winning the duel but I would not be able to leave unscathed. A part of my power had already mixed with hers. She had taken me by surprise. Was this the power the Occuria were lusting for when they chose her as their sword-arm?

"_Very well. I yield to you, Hume. I will take part in the sweet revenge you harbour in your heart. Destroy everything that holds you away from the freedom you yearn for."_

I let myself be washed away by the current of her will and was united with the rest of myself. The Princess' body relaxed and she let out a relieved sigh. Sweeping sweat from her forehead she got on her feet and faced her companions' inquiries regarding her condition with a contented smile. I was imprisoned again, this time shackled in a distant corner in the back of her mind, ready to be summoned at any moment when she willed it. Still, I could see through her eyes and hear through her ears. I found myself eager to see the Ivalice in which the era of the Stones was threatening to return once more on the land. The Ivalice in which mortals thrived, abandoned by the gods for so long.

Distantly I wondered who had been the one taking care of the Mythril Gates as I was gone.

* * *

**A/N: You can think of this chapter as a prologue of a sort. (Not that it's going to be too huge a story though.) Please excuse its length.**

**I didn't even try to make the game's battle system show in this story. It was difficult enough to begin with.**

**Well, I hope you'll have fun with the story (my first multi-chapter one, whoopee-doo!) Thanks and bye for now ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**"_Ignorant child, born of chaos._**

**_Know you that it was Our King, pitying the world bereft of Order,_**

**_surfeit with Strife,_**

**_who stamped true seal on mortal wax"_**

I had not been this well entertained for a millennia, I was certain of the fact. The short days I had travelled within Princess Ashelia of Dalmasca had been the most delightful experience I had had since I had declared a war against the Occuria. After having found out about my ability to explore her memories I had quickly updated my knowledge of her past and the present task at hand. The trouble she was in was indeed crafted by the Occuria, I knew their way of dealing with things.

But the enemies she was going to face – an Empire equipped with two nethicites of divine origin, Venat as their ally – and without using the power granted by the Occuria?

_In some wars, you must know to pick your side_, I thought to myself, amused. Not that my new master's fate truly mattered to me. I was now destined to fight by her side until someone bested her in battle and then I would move on to the next master to wield me. This was my new form of existence which I would maintain until I found a way to break the cycle. This certainly was very interesting.

I noticed my master slowing down her steps which left her slightly behind the rest of the crew. I found uncertainty in her heart.

"Your Majesty?" The Knight was quick to frown in worry.

"It's nothing. It's just…the Esper from the Great Crystal. I…I think she's _laughing_ at me," the Princess said, both puzzled and somewhat disturbed. She couldn't read my mind but apparently she had an inkling of the feelings I was experiencing. I would have to keep that in mind.

"Well, it's not that weird. Sometimes that Zalera guy is laughing so hard it keeps me awake at night," huffed the Hume who was called Vaan. I wondered what kind of a Hume he was if the insides of his mind were so hilarious.

The Viera stepped forward and habitually put a clawed hand on her hip. "They may be ours to summon but they are not without a will of their own. They are servants in flesh yet rebels by nature. This you felt for yourself when you obtained her, did you not?"

The Princess nodded, slightly surprised that the others had had similar experiences and said with determination, "I will simply need to get used to it, then."

A practical approach. I chuckled to myself, enjoying how my master was doing her best to ignore me. I had not known before that mortals were so entertaining.

As we arrived to a town that was called Balfonheim, I saw for myself the change of Ivalice. The Humes were ever so ambitious in building. In the Princess' memory I had seen the capital of Archadia, a city that challenged the ancient Giruvegan in size and population. As old cultures died out, new began to blossom. Such was the way of mortals. Yet in their momentary glory and superfluous quantity, the mortal races never attain perfection. Balfonheim was full of crude houses that were home to raw and uncouth people.

Despite this I observed everything with interest, albeit not very keen. The people were all revoltingly average, in no way out of ordinary. But then again, the legendary were supposed to be few and far between. If the Occuria was anything to judge – which, I had to admit, it regrettably was – I was in the company of a living legend at the very moment.

The reason behind the visit to the seaside town was a man Hume named Reddas. I had come to presume that he was a…king of a sort but his throne was as lacking in splendor as those of many barbaric tribe leaders in ancient times. He listened to the Princess' account of what had happened in Giruvegan before my entrance without comment, his eyes narrowing from time to time.

Then the Occuria's mysterious clue became the subject of discussion. In a tower on a distant shore sleeps the Sun-Cryst, had Gerun said. It had to be Ridorana they spoke of. There was another one of their hidden treasures, the Mother of the Stones, out of sight in jagd. The ancient peoples' legends mention the world's edge where the Great Maw devours the sea. The Ridorana Cataract.

"If we strike this Sun-Cryst with the Swords of Kings, no new stone may be born," the Viera mused. "We say the Sun-Cryst is the source of all nethicite's power. If we break it, the Dusk Shard would be as a thing lifeless." This was true. The new Era of Stones would then be denied. "As for the manufacted nethicite, who can say?"

"There is another way. We use the Treaty-Blade to cut a new stone form the Cryst to use that to fight the Dusk Shard _and_ the manufacted stones," came another voice. It was that of the man who had discarded his name and a great deal of other things with it. His voice always seemed to evoke something in the Princess' heart. I found the reaction interesting yet quite irrational. It was surely something exclusively for mortals.

While I had been lost in thought, the group had arrived at the conclusion that the distant tower indeed was the Pharos at Ridorana and that the strong mist that had threatened the ships there was that of the Sun-Cryst.

"All well and good but how do we get there? Those seas are jagd as I recall," the prodigal pirate pointed out a loophole in the plan.

In the end, the solution to the problem was a man-made stone stolen from Archadia that enabled Hume vehicles to function despite jagd. Mortals were so very curious beings. They had triumphed many of the laws that the gods had passed in the beginning of time. They built machines to make themselves fly like birds. They made weapons strong enough to obliterate the world as they knew it. They overreached themselves just to see if they could.

Something about that ambition made me wonder if they were so different from me after all.

All the way from Balfonheim to Ridorana the Princess sat silent in her seat. She was thinking about the choice she would have to make: to follow the path set by the Occuria and destroy all of her enemies at once or to find another way to deal with the conflict. Irritated at the emotions seeping through her consciousness, I decided to look for something to distract me.

I knew there was another Esper at her command; I had felt the presence of one when I had first come into contact with her. Still, they had yet to show themselves. I roamed about the narrow space I was given in her mind, looking for any sign of my kin.

"_What seek you here, High Seraph?"_

Being who he was, it was no wonder that Exodus had not sought me out though he undoubtedly was aware of my being there. I could not have hoped for a quieter Esper to share the Princess' soul with.

"_No harm in visiting my neighbours, is there?"_ I responded. _"I hardly expected to meet you again. Now we are slaves to Humes instead of the Undying. I cannot imagine what fate awaits us next."_

"_This Hume is of no significance. Not worthy of the swords she possesses." _If I didn't know Exodus better I could have sworn that there was a hint of disappointment in his words.

"Look, there it is!"

Vaan's sudden exclamation pulled the Princess out of her contemplations and I lost sight of Exodus in the process. I did not bother to search him out again but focused on the vision I received through the Princess' eyes. It truly was the Cataract. What was open sea in one moment changed into a seemingly bottomless pit that resembled a giant mouth. Large rocks could be seen on the brim, as if they were fangs of some primeval creature. There, at the edge of the world, stood the Pharos of Ridorana. Was there a more perfect stage for shaping legends for generations to come?

All passengers of the airship paid quiet homage to the edifice as the owners of the ship steered her to a suitable landing point. Having securely anchored our only means to leave the jagd alive everyone started packing equipment and items for the hike on unfamiliar territory ahead. The Princess took with her not only one, but both of the swords granted for her. She had not yet made her mind. Her time was running short.

Reddas had also noticed her hesitation.

"Your words still sound of doubt. Pray you reach the answer, ere we the Sun-Cryst."

"And should I choose revenge, what then?" The question was a challenge, yet also a plead for advice.

"Then your woe shall be your own," he said, leaving her listening to the bitter undertones of his words.

I recognized the Occuria's design in the architecture of the city. I had never seen the place with my own eyes but it was clear that it had belonged to a blessed people, much like Giruvegan. What I could not comprehend was what force had turned the city into ruins.

"There's something really peaceful about this place," said Penelo, the youngest of the Humes. "I mean, it doesn't creep you out like most of these really old places we've been in, you know?"

"Wouldn't bet too much of my gil on the peaceful part. We have company," remarked the pirate, readying his rifle as he nodded to the direction of an approaching Deathclaw.

I wondered if I'd ever get used to the way Humes fight. Watching things from the surface of the earth alone was an alienating experience, but they held their weapons in their very hands unlike me. I observed the Princess' grip on the handle of her sword as she swung it horizontally, aiming its blade at one of the monster's vital organs, her blow accompanied with a savage cry. The creature's bright-red blood splattered on her arm and the Knight delivered the final blow. The Princess simply lowered her shield and wiped her sword on a patch of grass protruding from the ornate stone paving. Repugnant Humes.

In the Eastern side of the island there was a coliseum. It had probably been used by would-be legends to test their skill against monsters and each other. The stone floor had clearly drunk blood in its time. Now the area was completely void of life though. It offered no object of interest save for some minor treasure in the stone corridors under the grandstand.

The group stopped to have a brief respite near an old lavatory basin. The Viera crouched over the basin, sniffing the water and examining the alga on its surface.

"I sense no sign of poison. As long as we do not drink it we should be alright."

Everyone gathered around the basin, rinsing off the most of the grime on their skin and clothes. Having cleaned herself up somewhat, the Princess let her eyes and as well as her mind wander. Both had a common goal: the gigantic tower towards the North. The others seemed to guess her musings but chose to ignore her. Basch the Knight stood stoic leaning on a wall, scanning the area should a monster appear. The Viera and her partner were slightly apart from the others, conversing quietly. It was as though the man was asking her something. She shook her head and her answer seemed to satisfy him. Vaan and Penelo were having a rather cheerful chat of their own and Reddas was absently rubbing his bald head, lost in thought.

As the journey continued more fiends were encountered, this time a variety of Malboros in addition to the cannibalistic Deathclaws. The enemies grew fewer, however, as we neared the Pharos. The common assumption went unvoiced but was clear: there was something there that the average beasts were too afraid of to approach.

Such creature was indeed met before the entrance to the Pharos. A dragon lacking flesh altogether, all bones and dust. A truly formidable watch, unrelenting even in death it was, killing intent evident in the glow of its eyes. The party had trouble with vanquishing it as it had no flesh to cut. Weapons did not work well on its hardened bones and the mist surrounding it protected it from the rage of elemental spells. The power most holy alone was its weakness. The Princess, too, realised this and made her decision.

"Stand back, everyone! I'm going to summon!"

For the first time she chose me to aid her in battle. The darkness of my prison was pierced by a sudden ray of light and I was pulled out. A glyph under my master's feet whispered magick, the workings of which no mortal had the slightest idea of. I came into existence anew by that magick.

It was a most exhilarating feeling. I was near a drunken state, for the lack of a better term, bewitched by a temporary release from my tight confines. Yet I had no chance to scrutinize this feeling for very long. The Princess' will commanded me to focus on the monster before me.

I struck the bone dragon with Redemption, a power that I had once used to guide the dead to the world beyond. The creature was still bound fast to this side of life, refusing to leave. I assaulted it again.

"_The god of Death alone is the same to all. To his side – now go!"_

The dragon fell, the spells binding it undone. So was the magick that had brought me back to life. Though longing to stay, I vanished in a fleeting moment, again wrapped in darkness. The Princess' heart was silent for a moment. She was impressed by my power. Somehow this pleased me.

"Hey Fran, something's written on this wall!"

Vaan's voice turned everyone's attention back to the massive door that was adorned by ancient texts incomprehensible to mortals and the somewhat fresher inscription in the wall next to it. Our trials to face here were far from over.

* * *

**A/N: The second chapter. I somehow had fun with this one. I find Ultima's point of view interesting to write though it makes things a little complicated every now and then. I try my best not to make it boring. I'm already dreading the next chapter (or maybe the one after that, depending on how many things I end up adding to this story. Ideas kind of come and go, edited, re-edited, re-re-edited...)**

**Don't you just love the subtle insult towards Vaan's intellect. Or then not.**

**Thanks for reading *bows* Until next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**"_Lo, seeker in days unborn, god-blade bearer_**

**_Know you: this tower challenges the sky_**

**_Ware the watcher, the Ward of Three waits_**

**_soul-hungry, unsated._**

**_He without power, want it not._**

**_He with power, trust it not._**

**_He with sight, heed it not._**

**_Rend illusion, cut the true path."_**

"In blood, Raithwall," Fran concluded her recital of the inscription left by King Raithwall himself for his descendants more than a thousand years past.

"He must have known he was not the last the Occuria would choose," she continued, her ruby eyes now turned towards the Princess. "He left this for you. 'Rend illusion. Cut the true path.' Words of much mystery." There was a peculiar edge of something that I could not quite comprehend in her voice. "Yet his blood runs in your veins. Perhaps it whispers to you the truth?"

Unsure yet with a tranquil heart the Dynast-King's descendant took a step towards the door. It immediately came to life, as if her very presence had triggered its hidden mechanism. Things of a similar nature were, of course, to be expected in gods' treasuries – the Pharos itself knew who to let by. The obstacles on the way were not made as much in order to prevent entrance as to test the chosen's worthiness.

Once inside, we were greeted by a hall that beat most palaces in size and ornamentation. At the center of the hall there was a circle marked by richly adorned stone columns. It was the rumoured Dais of Ascendance, the 'Sky-Bound path' that was said to head straight for Heaven itself.

"How's the water going up?" Wondered Vaan, pointing at the Dais.

"And what for?" Penelo added. I sneered. _My_ guess was that it was just the Occuria showing off their power. But what point was there in trying so hard to impress a few selected mortals?

"The Way Stone doesn't work. We need to activate it elsewhere," said Basch, who had been examining the device emitting a yellowish glow. Reddas came by his side, cocking his head to the direction of the stone doors on his right.

"Then we must take a closer look at this lighthouse, I suppose." The Princess nodded slightly at his words.

"Yes. Let us do that."

In the end the group decided to split in two parties in order to explore the Pharos more efficiently. The Princess and her Knight took the door on the right, accompanied by Reddas, while the remaining members stepped through the opposite doorway. The dark, labyrinthine corridors connecting identical rooms and the eerie Mistmares wandering about were likely to intimidate a thin-skinned adventurer but the three Humes did not hesitate for a moment to engage in battle. The Princess even was somewhat relieved to get something as simple as survival to think about.

As the last of the beasts fell down on the cold stones, something glowing left its body and remained floating in the air. It was a small orb, black yet somehow bright. It floated in the air as if waiting for something. All three Humes regarded it with suspicion and curiosity until it suddenly, without a warning, dashed out of the room and disappeared around a corner. Surprised, the Princess made a move to follow it, but Basch stopped her.

"Majesty, we will not be able to catch it. Perhaps we'll find another one if we press forward." The Princess agreed, somewhat irritated. She was feeling on the edge because of a multitude of things that were happening, things that were not in her command.

As soon as another monster was felled and an orb appeared again, the Princess quickly extended her hand towards it, intent on not missing her chance. As soon as she touched the object, it stopped floating and became more tangible. She examined it for a moment and then put it in her pocket. They all knew just as well as I did that the orb was the key to open a way to the next mystery of the Pharos.

Eventually we came across an age-worn pedestal with a text carved in it.

"An altar of Night," murmured Reddas. "My Lady, the orb you hold. I believe we need it now."

The Hume in question took the Black Orb from her pocket and brought it close to the pedestal. The odd black light spread to the altar and a gentle sound was heard at the distance through the noise of the rising Wellspring. Contented that at least something was happening right according to plan, the Princess nodded to her allies and we proceeded further to the direction of the back of the grand hall.

Soon afterwards the other half of the group was found in front of a blue glyph in the wall. They, too, had found out about the connection between the Black Orbs and the altars. Balthier positioned his gun on his shoulder and motioned his hand at the glyph.

"We have our next step right here. I trust we're all prepared, hm?"

Next we found ourselves on an illusionary desert. I could see the mists of deception in the air, creating a vivid image of sand and wind, no doubt another stage for an act of future legends. A stage belonging to the first of the Ward of Three – the savage Pandaemonium. The defeat of the creature activated the Way Stone in the hall, allowing the group to advance.

Several hours later I found myself rather amused at the Occuria's sense of humour when it came to the tasks they gave to their Chosen ones.

"No good. We still need one of those things to complete that bridge," said Vaan, who had come panting after going to check if they had defeated enough Brainpans to make it safe to cross over a distance between two stone platforms. The news aroused a choir of frustrated sighs in the group tired of running up and down the numerous flights of stairs. Exasperated, the Princess, who had been in sitting position in the stairs, got up a little too fast and had to look for support in a wall to keep her balance. Basch gave a knowing glance to the two heavy swords, one strapped in the Princess' back and one hanging upon her waist, but he apparently knew better than to ask if the woman needed help. I chuckled again and was overjoyed when the Princess muttered a hushed order for me to _be quiet_ under her breath.

The gateway of the Dais of Ascendance closed with an echo of such finality in the 88th floor that it was clear something was approaching. The Ward of Three had been too weak, the defendants of the Pharos too feeble. There had to be another watchman.

All this I knew and yet I was taken by surprise to see the figure with the head of a lion and feet of a bull – it was Hashmal, Bringer of Order.

"_Quite the mortals these are! Holding power over you, descendants of the Undying! Even you, High Seraph – is this the liberty you longed for?" _Then he banged his armed fists together and roared.

"_The Occuria has a high price to pay for challenging me. I shall start with crushing their Chosen one like an insect!"_

His brute behaviour and words of mockery set my anger aflame. I hated the Occuria above all else but I was not overly fond of my fellow scions, either. Yes, I remembered all too well this earthen warrior. It had been the Thousand years' war that had consumed him, who knew not the limit of his power. Like a fire that burns everything and then perishes after there is nothing left to feed on.

As many a mighty scion had before him, Hashmal met his fate in the hands of these mortals. He roared furiously as he fell and his soul was freed from its crystal prison. The one who claimed him was Basch, who had only commanded one Esper soul so far. I observed the Knight for signs of an inner struggle but none could be seen. I could only wonder why.

The Dais reached its destination in the 90th floor. Vaan and Penelo started a discussion about whether they were disappointed or relieved by the fact that the Pharos indeed did have a ceiling and did not go on infinitely. Except for their voices the Empyrean Ravel was, for the most part, reigned by silence. Weariness and worry for things yet to come were taking their toll. The absence of monsters in the area seemed to unnerve the minds of the group instead of enlivening them.

At the end of the road a Way Stone and the final carved pillar were encountered. The young Humes hurried to examine it.

"This tower, wrought by hands Undying, Heaven-bound path," Penelo started, followed by Vaan.

"You who master Power, Wisdom, Mist...the tower's secrets are for you and you alone. Claim them."

"The Heaven's last height now you ascend..."

"Chosen, know now the reason of your choosing." Vaan straightened his back. "I guess this is it?"

The Princess' heart grew unsteady as she approached the Way Stone with a certain aura of solemnity. Everyone else gathered around her as she reached out her hand. Just before touching the device she drew a shaky breath and shattered the heavy silence to pieces.

"To the Sun-Cryst, then."

In the next moment, the mists inside the Pharos stirred. Soon the tower would lose its purpose and become a relic of times long gone. A fate of many great things in this world.

* * *

**A/N: Oh. Can't believe I spent a whole chapter just getting up the damn tower. Oh well. I guess I just wanted to show that it wasn't exactly an easy task. (All those stairs...if I had had to climb them...I would've died.)**

**By the way, I gave myself a quick tour in the Pharos as I was writing this chapter...And I rediscovered the texts in the carved pillars. So I'm going to quote one of them at the start of each chapter. (This time it's Raithwall's though) I added one to chapter 2, too. Chap one is more like a prologue so I didn't go changing anything here.**

**Thanks for reading, see you next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**"_Ignorant child,_**

**_of ignorance afeared._**

**_Rare is the power that can bind._**

**_Here alone such magicks work,_**

**_neath mingling of Cryst – drawn waters and deifacted jewels."_**

At the very peak of the Pharos at Ridorana lay the origin of the greatest power known to the world. Mere shards cut from it could change a prospering land into a necrohol full of rotting mist. The true nature of the Sun-Cryst contradicted with its name and appearance – the Cryst was dazzlingly beautiful in an ominous, power-lusting way. Forgotten, covered in mist cobwebs, pleading to be freed.

"King Raithwall stood here," the Princess said, the Cryst's glow reflecting in her eyes. "With this sword he cut the Sun-Cryst and took its power in his hand."

"But you're going to use the sword to destroy the Sun-Cryst, aren't you, Ashe," Vaan said giving the Princess a meaningful look.

But was she now?

It was in situations like these where I found even myself wondering: Would _I_ have been able to defeat the Occuria with the Cryst's power had I known its whereabouts? Could power that terrifying be controllable? It was a curious thought.

The Hume princess certainly was interested in the Cryst, though not necessarily intent on using it. To get rid all her enemies at once and become the new Dynast-Queen, sovereign with a deifacted nethicite in hand like her ancestor... Queen to the world, slave to the stone. The Occuria would be delighted by such a dull ending.

"Don't interrupt me, Vaan."

With a sword in each hand, as if weighing the different paths to choose from, Princess Ashelia sighed deeply. Reacting to the Treaty-Blade's presence, the cobwebs covering the Cryst disappeared, leaving behind a radiant jewel of jeopardy. At the same moment Dalmasca's late prince, husband to the Princess, appeared. The woman's heart leapt in her chest. Past ghosts always worked well with Humes.

"You want revenge? You would have me use the stone?" She asked, incredulous. The Prince, Rasler as he was called, offered no words as a reply but instead extended his hand towards his widowed wife. There was a strange sense of mist around him, something that gave me the oddest feeling. He was no Hume ghost. What manner of mist created such illusions?

"I cannot!" The Princess' exclamation was coated with despair, a battle fought within her mind becoming an outburst of indecision.

"Why do you hesitate?" An unfamiliar man stepped from the side of the room. How he had made it to the top of the Pharos I could not comprehend. He was an ordinary Hume, albeit drunk on bitter hatred and revenge, his life devoted to servitude. He, too, intended to abet the Princess to take revenge by tearing past wounds open anew. "I slew your King," he taunted. "I slew your country. Do these deeds not demand vengeance?"

I felt the Princess' blood boil at the sudden revelation. Dropping the Sword of Kings, she took up the Treaty-Blade, blind anger raging within her mind. The foreign man laughed under his helmet as he readied his own weapon to battle stance.

"Yes! Good. Find your wrath. Take up your sword and serve those who died before you!" The apparent clash at hand was interrupted by Reddas, who now chose to reveal his true identity. His dreading of nethicite stemmed from experience. He was a pirate king whose love for peace overshadowed his wish for power. Such a thing was rare, but not very interesting. When he addressed the Princess after having bared his weapons against the Archadian soldier, his voice spoke with trust that is so easily placed by mortals.

"Reach out your hand, Lady Ashe! But remember, that which you must grasp is something beyond revenge, something greater than despair! ...Something beyond _our_ reach. Try as we might, Gabranth, history's chains bind us too tightly."

The two men crossed swords as the rest of the group stood watching, no one wanting to be the one to interfere. Confused, the Dalmascan Princess stood with the Treaty-Blade in hand. She turned to look at the false ghost.

"Rasler, my Prince. Our time was short," she said, quietly as a whisper. "Yet I know this... You were not the kind to take base revenge!" The volume in her voice granting her bravery, she slashed the blade through the ghost's body. Cut in half and seeping mist, the illusionary Hume finally revealed his true colours: his voice was that of the Occuria.

"_You are our saint, Ashelia B'Nargin. You must use the nethicite! You must be the one to straighten the history's weave-"_ Their voice was cut short by another strike from their own sword. I watched in amusement, in much better spirits than just a moment ago. The Princess' mind, too, was more lucid now. Having faced a haunting memory she saw more clearly. Be it wisdom, foolishness or mere fear of overabundant power, the Sun-Cryst was to be destroyed.

Such things I had seen.

The walls of the Pharos at Ridorana would forever whisper the legend of what happened that day in the highest chamber at the peak of the lighthouse. The Sun-Cryst was gone, yet Bahamut had been brought back to the skies of Ivalice.

The man I had seen in the Princess' memories and wanted to meet so, the nethicite-maker, the Hume mad enough and wise enough to realise Venat's ambitions. He had come to awaken the Vessel. He had completed the Cryst with its missing shards, making it leak pure, undisturbed mist. So untainted a substance did not exist even in Giruvegan. And the stone he carried... It held Famfrit's soul within it. Not only had he succeeded in finding and defeating the Esper but also captured him within a prison that resembled much the Occurian crystal: a man-made nethicite. Cidolfus Demen Bunansa had been a genius and an experimental one indeed. But a god he had never been.

The Sun-Cryst was gone. And with its fall, the entire world had felt a shift in the mist. Something would surely change in the centuries to come. More Jagd, perhaps. A climatic change. Who could say for sure?

It was night in Balfonheim. The mortals were asleep, more or less, with their bodies surrendering due to the harsh past days but their minds plagued by things come to pass and things still waiting ahead. I wandered absently in the Princess' mind where restless nightmares ran untamed. I had never fully understood the concept of dreams. From what I had been told, mortals need them to rearrange their minds while their body rests, creating new solutions to their problems. I could not comprehend how this worked in practice, though, as the dreams Princess Ashelia was having suggested anything but rational deliberation. At first she was in a church clad in a Dalmascan wedding gown, sharing a kiss with her newlywed husband. When she pulled away from the kiss, she realised that the Treaty-Blade had materialised there and penetrated the Prince's torso. Bleeding mist and crimson, he grabbed her arm and croaked with a mad glow in his eyes:

"_Administer judgment! Destroy them all!"_

"_My lady! You have given us free hand to write our own history!"_ It was the nethicite-maker, who was standing in the aisle, Venat floating behind him. _"Let us use the stone! Let sea and sky be awash in mist so that Bahamut may come and drink his fill!"_

"_And the battlefield...is Dalmasca," _said the Rozzarrian man, Al-Cid, sitting utterly calm in the first row of the benches, observing his dark glasses for cracks.

Suddenly the church's back wall was shattered by a dark, menacing could that somewhat resembled a giant wyrm. The Princess shielded herself from the pieces of debris and shards of stained-glass windows, then looking up in mute horror. Behind her, the Doctor was overjoyed, shouting welcomes to the monster and something about man's power over gods.

"_It seems he has awakened something quite large," _Al-Cid said, mostly to himself. Realising she would have to fight the giant before her, the Princess found herself equipped only with a rapier she had used in her fencing lessons at home, in the adobe of the Royal Family of Dalmasca. She woke up with a start, panting and her heart racing, right before the Lord of the Sky swallowed her whole.

I did not understand the benefit to be gained from dreams.

The departure was early in the morning. The tension in the airship was very nearly tangible. Everyone was preparing for what would be the final battle, win or lose.

With their best gear equipped, pockets filled with supporting items, they were as ready as they could get, considering the circumstances, and left Balfonheim far behind. Be the outcome of the battle what it may, I had an inkling I would not be returning to the revoltingly simple-minded port town for some time.

"We are entering Dalmascan airspace," said the Viera, glancing at the navigator's screen.

"So it would seem," remarked her partner humourlessly. Penelo and Vaan, too, seemed to notice what he had.

"W-what _is_ that?"

"Whoa! It's huge!"

As Basch let a barely audible but existent curse exit his mouth, the Princess peeked out of the window in fear and curiosity. The sight made her want to curse, too. Damn everything to the deepest pit of the lowest equivalent of hell she could imagine. There was an aerial war raging over her very homeland. The people of Rabanastre – _her_ people, I heard her thinking – were probably watching from below, still protected by the paling, afraid of the fate of their home. Warfare had really changed from the time I last had witnessed it. In ancient times countries were conquered with spears and swords in hand. Now Humes flew in the air as if willing to own not the land but the sky above it. Explosions followed one after another and occasionally a ship fell from the sky, leaving only a trail of smoke and fire after it.

There were many powerful ships but the one overshadowing them all was the Bahamut. It was immediately recognisable from its build and the mist it reeked of, much duller and less pure but decidedly the same as the Sun-Cryst. The Sky Fortress dominated the battlefield. One single shot from its mist gun detonated a Bhujerban warship of remarkable calibre into pieces right before the Princess' astonished eyes.

"I need to get in touch with my uncle," she said to Balthier, who was occupying the seat in front of her. Without turning his gaze from the ship's controls, he, in turn addressed the Viera next to him.

"Fran, would you?"

Without a word, the Viera reached out her hand to the radio communicator. She picked it up and inserted the coordination before handing the device to the Princess. The Hume gave her brief thanks and brought the communicator to her mouth.

"Uncle, it is I! I'm crossing to the Bahamut to stop Vayne."

"_What are you saying? You are too rash,"_ the Marquis' voice echoed in the cockpit. The man sounded worried and slightly irritated. _"Your duties come after the battle is over."_

"If we allow them to destroy us here there will be no after!" The Princess argued. The battle was still raging outside the ship. Another minor vessel soared and met with the desert sand with a loud explosion quite close to the Strahl. "You must assist our charge!"

By the time the ship reached the Bahamut, Marquis Ondore had been convinced. The pirate pair manoeuvred their vessel between the rings providing the sky fortress balance and power. After finding a suitable landing point the group made their exit from the ship, grabbing their weapons with them as they went.

The fortress was an odd mixture of ancient and modern. Divine architecture blended into man's contemporary visions in a way that was not likely to occur many times in the world's age. Right at the entrance a pair of Imperial watchmen was encountered. Taken by surprise, they were an easy target for the intruders. Having dispatched them, the party moved on to discuss their strategy from thereon.

"Vayne will be in the command tower. I saw something of the like in our way in here," noted Balthier. "Right above our heads."

"We need not fight all the Empire to win. If we can get to Vayne...we can put an end to this war." said the Princess, wishing to save both their strength but also the number of casualties. She was manifesting a trait that was oft times called humane thinking. I was not ready to agree on the impression the word gave the race in question but recognised the notion in all other respects. Willing to spare even her enemy. Such a woman would not have been fit for what the Occuria had in mind after all.

* * *

**A/N: Dear me, we're almost done with the game!**

**What happens in the Cryst chamber...is one of the parts I was not looking forward to. Because there are a lot of long cutscenes with a lot of talk. And...not all of it very interesting as far as this story is concerned. Gabranth's a nice person and all but he just talks and talks...pretty much repeating the same thing. So I...mostly ignored him?**

**I would've liked to have Cid around for some more time but I couldn't get the scene working correctly with any amount of struggle.**

**Now I've rambled again. Thanks for reading and tell me what you think ;) I don't mind criticism as long as you keep it civil.**

**No, let's revise that. I'd love it if you could help me improve.**


	5. Chapter 5

**"_On sight you must rely,_**

**_at mercy of the currents of this fading world._**

**_Seduced by false illusion, it is the Fool who cuts not his own path,_**

**_celestial glory ne'er to behold."_**

"Permit me to ask… Who are you?"

Princess Ashelia of Dalmasca was confused. As expected, she was angry…no, furious, enraged, infuriated. Yet somehow, beneath that rage, there was bewilderment and disbelief even, that the Archadian Emperor, the leader of the country that had destroyed her life, the Emperor that had not hesitated to bathe in blood – be it anyone's – was indeed only a man. As he was standing next to his brother, Larsa Solidor, one could see that they really resembled each other. Two so different people had emerged from the same womb. Perhaps people should not be as concerned with a person's bloodline as they are.

"An angel of…vengeance? Or perchance a saint of salvation?" The man continued his previous question. The Princess gritted her teeth but chose to hide her anger under a veil of serenity. This was her charge. At the same time I wondered if I would soon belong to this Archadian man.

"I am simply myself. No more and no less. And I want…only to be free." The ambitious Emperor chuckled at this.

"Such a woman is not fit to bear the burden of rule. Weep for Dalmasca for she is lost." With a confident smile the elder Solidor now addressed his younger brother.

"Observe well, Larsa. Watch and mark you the suffering of one who must rule yet lacks the power."

"No, brother. …I will not."

So this child, too, would choose his personal beliefs over the values he had been taught since his birth. I remembered the time of such a decision of my own. My charge at that time…had failed me miserably.

The battle began. Much worse opponents had been vanquished by the Princess and her allies and they beat the Hume Emperor with relative ease. He fell to the ground with a grunt. I strained my perception. This was not all.

"Lord brother!"

As the child ran to his fallen brother, a shockwave of mist caught him and rendered him unconscious. It was Venat.

I did not remember him very well from the time I still served the Occuria. I tried to recall any signs of him representing an opposition of a sort among the gods but could not find such. How long had he dreamt of outshining his fellow Occurians? How had he looked upon my attempt at rebellion? Suddenly I wished to know what he had been thinking when I had raised my voice against the sovereign rulers of all Ivalice.

Would I have been happy if he said he had been…proud of me?

I dismissed such thoughts as I watched Vayne the Hume turn into a monster. The sickening reek of factored mist was all around the room. From the corner of the Princess' eye I could see that the Viera was fighting the urge to vomit. Man's imitation of a power of nature – crude and disgusting, yet effective. The battle was longer and direr than the previous one, though the assisting sword-arm of a child had changed into that of a grown and trained though injured man.

The Princess attacked like she had when I had fought her in the Great Crystal: unwearyingly and relentlessly. The mist and adrenaline were making her numb to pain and she barely noticed the healing spells flying in her direction quite often.

Finally, the five Sephiras that had been assisting Vayne in his attacks responded to his will weaker than before and he was unable to continue the fight. Judge Gabranth wielded his sword with all the worth of his hatred towards the Empire and bitterness for the loss of his homeland.

"Even a stray has pride," he said facing the embodiment of his grudge. He was thrown aside. Vayne intended to take revenge on the unfaithful Judge.

"Burn in Hell…Gabranth!" He yelled, gathering the power enough to kill. Yet the lethal mist never met its target, but a stone instead. Now recovered, Larsa was holding out the manufacted nethicite that drank the mist – and shattered in the process.

Vayne Solidor fled. Was it from death or from his lost battles, I did not know. The Princess and the others followed him, leaving only the injured Judge and the grief-stricken boy in the command room.

Venat was still not defeated. He still had power to give his Chosen one.

_Is he worth it?_

I wondered.

However, if I had been asked the same question – was the Princess, a mere insignificant Hume, worth the shame of bowing down to her? – I would not have known the answer.

Wings of iron and mist lift the Emperor of Archadia in the air as dark clouds obscured the view to the sky on the Sky Fortress Bahamut's deck. I watched the creature unheard of and felt a twinge of something within my heart. It could not be fear for surely I had nothing to dread in the world...but I did not know any other word of any language to describe the sentiment that had taken over me.

Often had I wondered why the Occuria gave tasks to mortals and did not vanquish their enemies themselves. Why trust Humes with their errands, Humes that could not be trusted?

I had arrived at the conclusion that the almighty Undying simply could not take lives directly.

Perhaps Venat was the same: he held power beyond understanding but he could not use it without a medium. Surely Vayne Solidor himself had a nearly nonexistent role in this battle. Only his presence, his mortal body and soul, his feeble life that still somehow remained within him, were needed.

Penelo cast with all her might but still the strength of her allies threatened to wane. Other members, too, had to resort to defensive means to stay alive. They were driven by fear and instinct more than reason. When the opponent released a powerful strike that sent four of the party members to the ground, Vaan reacted by summoning Shemhazai to give them a moment of peace to restore their vigour. I had but a brief moment to take a look at the equine scion again after a millennium of separation as Venat dismissed her almost immediately. It seemed he did not want to let us Espers interfere.

"What happened to your Esper?" Basch yelled to Vaan before shielding himself from an approaching spell.

"I don't know, it just disappeared!" He shouted back.

Meanwhile the Princess took an X-potion out of her pocket and downed it. She had no time to taste its bitterness as her body was enveloped by gentle warmth. It was soon replaced by a burning pain as a Piercing Firaga was cast on her. After that, there was a Curaga. She wasn't sure who had cast it but it mattered little. She lunged back to the battle to cause twice the injury she had received as a payback. Venat's power was waning, though the fact only intensified the combat. Neither side was going to accept defeat. As if to emphasize this point, Venat cast strong barriers on his Chosen. Steel and magick were of no use against him.

"Why can't we damage him?" The Princess yelled, frustrated.

"_He intends to buy time. Not for long can he hold the power of the palings. Be patient, Hume, and look for your moment."_

I was surprised at my own words. I had decided not to help the Princess any more than was necessary. I had chosen not to interfere so far, so why did I now speak?

The mortals stood their ground before the new Undying, waiting until the barriers granting immunity to steel and magick both were broken apart. The Undying was destroyed through a chain of Quickenings, much like I had been. The combined power of these individuals truly was far superior to the sum of their capabilities on their own.

The fall of the Undying, though the name could carry little meaning anymore, was as impressive as its rise. Knowing to expect the explosion of mist, the mortals ducked low and shielded themselves with protective spells. They did not move for several moments.

The sky cleared. Silence settled in the deck. The Princess' heart was quiet, daring to timidly hope that the battle was over at last. She opened her eyes and stood up wordlessly. The others, too, were beginning to stand.

I was lost in thought. Ever since I had become the Princess' servant, I had not thought as far as this. Venat had said the world was now free from the Undying ones. Did that mean the Occuria was finally beaten, though not completely defeated (a task perhaps impossible)? Their counterpart Venat was gone, as well. The realisation that I had been granted with a chance to take part in all this gave me joy. If this was the case, had I taken revenge?

The mortals were beginning to take in the thought of their victory. Smiling at each other and expressing wordless gratitude, they appreciated the blue sky and the wind in their face again – symbols of peace.

Then, a warship flying by interrupted their moment of victory. There were still things to do.

There were still many lives to be saved, many hardships to be faced, tears to be cried, a great deal of happiness to be shared. Such was the way of mortals.

I, the High Seraph alone, was not certain what was there for me yet to accomplish.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for taking a bit longer than usual. I've been amazingly lazy :P**

**This is chapter with...a lot of fighting. I've skipped most of the battles in this story to avoid repetition (or to save me the trouble?) but of course I had to put some effort into the final boss.**

**When I was brainstorming to come up with a name for this story, I remembered Vayne asking Ashe who she was. And I used that (since it applies both to Ashe and Ultima). But...I didn't check it...which is why it's "revenge" instead of "vengeance". I really feel like hitting myself in the face now.**

**The next chapter is the last, you know. We'll see how that goes. Hang on until then!**


	6. Chapter 6

**"_Ignorant child,_**

**_blessed with life on clay below._**

**_All that lived and ever shall_**

**_are as nothing before the Undying."_**

"Your Majesty?" There was a knock on the door.

"Do enter," said the Queen Ashelia of Dalmasca, averting her eyes from the letters she had been rearranging. As the head of a state she naturally possessed evidence of long-time correspondence with various people for political reasons but these particular letters stored in an elegant, little box in her bedroom were personal. She had been re-reading them and reminiscing until interrupted by her maid.

"I bid you good morning, your Majesty," the maid said smiling, "but I do feel I am not fulfilling my role, seeing as you have always already risen by the time I arrive to wake you." She was young, barely two decades of life behind her, but the Queen had taken a liking to her. It was solely for that reason she dared to say such things.

"You need not feel that way, Mureel. I have ever been an early riser," the Queen said in response. She, too, was smiling. She put the letters away and stood up as the younger girl started to help her change to day clothes. Warm sunlight made its way inside the room through partially closed curtains. "Can you imagine that the morning hours used to be the only time I had for myself?"

"It is a relief that Lord Banalugan has taken most of your duties to himself, is it not?" Mureel inquired while buttoning an elegant, simple day gown of creamy white and subtle blue. When she was done, she motioned the Queen to sit down and took a brush in her hand, starting the daily routine of tending the gracefully greyed natural crown of the Queen's head.

"Indeed it is," the elder woman replied, sliding her wedding ring to her wrinkled, thin finger. The only she had ever worn.

Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca had never remarried. Ever since she had reclaimed the throne sixty-seven years ago, she had doubted that she would ever bear children for her country. Many had attempted to change her mind and she had even hated herself for not being able to fulfil her duty as a Queen, or as a woman, and continue the Dynast-King's bloodline. Banalugan had been like an answer to her prayers – if one could call them such, seeing as she had once refused to serve the gods she might offer her prayers. The man was noble, her distant relative, and if ruling a country was something that entailed talent, he truly was gifted.

There had been opposition, of course. But the terrors of war were still fresh in the minds of Dalmascan people. No one wanted to tear apart the fragile peaceful reign they had come to love. They had no choice but to accept their King-to-be.

A King-to-be, indeed, as he was not an official ruler yet. He was forty years of age, with a wife and children of his own and responsible of many duties concerning Dalmasca but he was still working under Queen Ashelia's direct orders. He would only be crowned when she lay in her grave.

"Mureel, do I have any appointments this morning?"

"Not until noon, my lady. Do you wish to do something in particular?"

"I would like to...take a walk in the garden," the Queen answered, eyeing herself and the young maid in the mirror. She had grown old.

Sixty years and seven.

That was nothing compared to the time I had spent trapped inside the Great Crystal. However, it still amazed me that I had spent all that time within this Hume. I had lived every day with her, if not for any other reason than out of boredom. And I was slightly alarmed by what had become of me.

I was growing more passive. The peaceful life in the palace was terribly dull, filled with trivialities such as teatimes, walks in the garden, visits of nobles from abroad, balls and long meetings concerning the newest development of agriculture in the Eastern areas of the country. It only rendered me numb and too often did I find myself not thinking of anything at all, only letting the moments pass by and watch as is a spectator lacking the wit to comprehend the play. How could Humes enjoy such meaninglessness? I had considered attempting to challenge the shackles of her soul more than once. I needed her no more for any purpose and she even had ceased to give me entertainment long ago. Should I take the risk of shattering my own spirit in the process?

For some reason I had always decided to postpone the time I would execute my threat to destroy her.

She had not summoned me for three and half a decade. Before that she sometimes had, when she could be sure no one was looking. Perhaps it had been out of curiosity, to see if I still was there, if she still could call me. To prove herself that all those ordeals so many years ago had not been merely her imagination. She also had tried summoning Exodus once but he was tucked too far in her mind to care to respond. I'd jumped at the chance instead. It was the strangest look she had given me then, when the creature before her was not the one whom she had been expecting.

Exodus was lost to the world, I reasoned. When I searched him out in the Queen's mind I could barely see him. I could not help wondering what had become of the other scions, those living with their respective masters. Did they dread their accursed fate as I did?

There had not been word of those who had aided Ashelia to restore her country. Basch, who had opted to take up his brother's burdens with his armour, had died some thirty years ago. Apparently it had been of some sickness brought by old age. Vaan and Penelo stayed together, moving permanently back to Rabanastre after countless adventures together with their very own airship. They had not written for some time, though.

The notorious sky pirate and his partner had not been directly in touch with Queen Ashelia since returning her precious ring. It was not surprising but the fact did not make her think of them – or to be more specific, him – any less. She had been actively following news concerning them: the occasional heists, captures, prison-breaks...but at a point they disappeared without a trace. Knowing them, the two could be anywhere, dead or alive, that was anyone's guess.

As for the child-emperor who was no more a child but a grandfather to several: one of the more recent letters on the table was signed by him.

The fact that I gave so much thought to those mortals was one of many things that proved the change in my attitude. I had become accustomed to the life of Queen Ashelia. And as her thoughts increasingly often drifted to her imminent decease, as is usually the case with the elderly, I, too, started to wonder what kind of existence I would take when her life ended.

_The time is approaching._

"Do you think so?"

Years of impassivity had made me let my guards down. I had not noticed the...proximity of her consciousness and mine. The inner turmoil that had deafened her for so long in her youth had finally silenced in her later years, allowing her to listen. Even to her own soul.

I had been a stranger in her mind for so long it felt odd to address her directly.

"_Eighty-six is an age not all Humes reach. Your body has grown unstable of late."_

"It is not that I would argue with you," she assured. "Rather, I believe I am glad to hear you say that." She talked quietly, as if to herself, while appreciating the flowers in full bloom. The garden was at its best.

"In the end, I have gained more than I ever dared to hope for. Though everything did not go as I had planned," she said, habitually stroking the ring in her finger. "Dalmasca prospers."

She was quiet for a moment, as if expecting an answer from me. When none came, she continued.

"To be able to bring happiness to the people of this land...that's what I always dreamt of. To be able to say that I have given them something special and true." She succumbed into silence again. Then something seemed to occur to her.

"I...cannot say I have ever learned to understand you, or even given much thought to you Espers. But...is there something...something you have dreamt of? Something you, a being above mortality, would long for?"

I was about to answer that I existed for the sake of taking revenge on my captors but then stopped to reconsider. There was something I had always wished for, even more than seeing the Occuria brought down. Something even more ancient and deeply rooted within me than any grudge Ivalice could hold.

"_I yearn for my freedom."_

Masterless life, chainless life, void of restraints. A wish that was not very different from Exodus' craving for nothingness. Both were mere fantasies, illusionary ideals. There were always boundaries the world could not do away with without crumbling.

"I see," the Queen whispered. "Then, I hope you shall attain it...one day." It was kindness that could only be found in the foolishness of a Hume. I did not tell her this.

Later that day, she collapsed while ascending the stairs to the dining hall.

She received no serious injury but soon came down with a fever. The royal doctors tended her to their best ability but, as one of them told the withering Majesty, no wonders could be done. Spells and potions did not make a mortal immortal.

They were agonizingly long days. Bedridden and feverish, Queen Ashelia spent most of her time in a sleeplike state, dreaming half-awake. She vaguely acknowledged the few people who were allowed to visit her. When her mind was more lucid, she would ask for Banalugan and talk to him about how he should rule Dalmasca after she was gone. He listened patiently, even though the old Queen would sometimes tell him the same thing she had the previous day. Her wit was as sharp as ever – she simply did not know for sure which parts of her memories were dreams and which had truly happened.

Sometimes she would talk to me. Occasionally servants overheard her and they regarded the Queen a little differently afterwards.

"They think I am senile, don't they," she mumbled to me. Still she would keep talking. There was something I appreciated about that.

After the third week had passed, the Queen's condition suddenly worsened. The long hours of her final night were full of undignified hassle, maids and doctors running about. I remembered expecting this Hume to die on the battlefield, bathing in her own blood rather than wrapped in sweat-soaked, silky linens.

At sunrise she spoke to me the final time.

"Do you think...it's time?"

"_No permission of mine have you asked in your life. Why do so in your death?"_

The final breath of the Dalmascan Queen was not a laboured but a relieved one.

As her body gave in, I could hear the walls of her consciousness crumble and fall. A brilliant light shattered the darkness of my involuntary adobe and I hastened towards it, the familiar sensation of wideness spreading about me. Had Ivalice always been this large?

I ignored the doctors and the servants around the Queen's bed, shocked by the sudden rush of magick and mist coiling around the deathbed. I thought of nothing but the sweet, intoxicating freedom I was about to grasp. How long had it been since I last had tasted it?

With every passing second I felt my tangible appearance reappear stronger, truer. I was no longer in the dimly illuminated bedchamber, I was under the sky, facing the sunrise as if it was hailing me, the High Seraph born anew.

Without the Occuria, without Humes. On my own, ready to enter the new Ivalice.

Only then did I realise that I was starting to lose myself again. My body had not become complete. It was dissipating, fading like all those years ago in the Great Crystal.

"_At ease, High Seraph. This was our fate from the start."_

"_Why? Speak, Judge-Sal! Did you know this would happen?"_

"_It was to be expected. This is the true weight of the punishment from our creators. They condemned us to imprisonment and servitude. What remains is the final judgment: without a master to follow, we become mist. Thus we are made mortal."_

Had the situation been different I would have been deeply impressed by the sheer number of words he chose to offer me. He was in an excellent mood. It was a step closer to the nothingness he so loved. Oh, how I wished I didn't have to play a part in it.

So the Occuria had triumphed in the end.

With desperation I flew towards the sun rising to bless the new day. I wanted to seek refuge in that scorching star, to escape from the world that would not grant me my wishes. Was this the feeling that the mortals have when they know their death approaching?

It was foolish of me to think of death. I had no Heaven or Hell to anticipate. I was changing to mindless mist, an elemental substance without ambitions or dreams. I reached out to the sun, eyes opened wider than ever, longing to reflect its brilliance. It reminded me of the time of my creation and felt the last conscious thought echo in my mind before it was lost in the wind.

Were my wings still made of sunlight?

* * *

**A/N: My first multi-chapter story is hereby completed. I feel solemn, somehow.**

**I knew from the start that Ultima's story just couldn't end too...happily. Don't know why. I just couldn't imagine her getting to be all nice and free again after the rebellion. Sorry for everyone who was expecting a happy ending.**

**Overall this was one of the most interesting but also the hardest chapters to write. I kept changing and changing it. Still have some doubts about how it should have gone. If you compare this chapter to chaps 1 or 2 you probably can see the change in Ultima's character. Feel free to jump to any conclusions you like.**

**Mr. Heir's name was originally not supposed to be a reference to the Japanese version. It just happened.**

**Apart from the usual "now that you're there, please review" I have something else to ask of you. Namely, what should I do next? I don't have any special ideas right now and if you don't want to just wait around until I find some... I've completed (or nearly completed, meaning just a bit left and still working on that) FFs from I to XIII except V and XI which I haven't tried at all. (I'd love to though.) Just wondering what kind of stuff would you like to see?**

**A ridiculously long author's note shall end soon. Just one more thing: I just checked and realised that there has been more than 300 hits by almost 170 visitors from all over the world to this story! Amazing! Thank you so much! I hope you had even half as fun reading this story as I had writing it :D**


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